


Usurper's Lullaby

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost Luke Skywalker, Force Visions, Rating May Change, Redeemed Ben Solo, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Resistance is rebuilding. The First Order is crumbling. After a coup leaves Kylo Ren stranded, Rey must decide if Ben Solo is worth saving.Set one year after the events of the Last Jedi.





	1. Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this story contains violence that is atypical of the Sequel Trilogy. TW for blood, gore, and injury.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

Red.

The ground seeped red.

The wet soil squelched beneath Kylo Ren’s boots, blood pouring into the cracks his footprints left behind. The air was metallic with the smell of blaster smoke and fresh bodies. The landscape of Uebos, a once solitary planet devoid of civilization, was in disarray. Bombs had carved deep divots into the forested swampland. Ancient trees that had laid their roots here for many millennia were split into pieces at their trunks. A stray limb—as big as an X-Wing and covered with spotted, orange moss—pinned the body of a stormtrooper to the forest floor. Every bone below his ribs had been crushed. His armour was smeared with a thick mixture of dirt and blood. He moaned softly, undoubtedly close to death.

He wouldn’t be of much use.

Kylo passed many more bodies. Most were covered in debris. All were unmoving. The last bout of bombing had cleared this area of any active fighting. Aside from the crack and sizzle of his lightsaber beside him, it was eerily quiet. He took extra caution as he passed a cluster of steaming springs and came onto a forest clearing.

Immediately, the shrill sound of blaster fire split through the silence. With an impulse as instinctual as breathing, Kylo called out to the Force. He flicked his hand and the blaster flew from the grip of a stormtrooper who was sprawled out in the grass, haphazardly concealed by the haze of the hot springs and a pile of rubble. His weapon flung against the nearest tree and broke in two. He advanced forward, fist closing tighter around his lightsaber, perspiration slick on his brow as the planet’s humidity stifled the atmosphere around him.  

The stormtrooper’s hands desperately clawed at the earth as he tried to crawl away. A smoking wound stretched from his shoulder blade to the base of spine. It split his armour open down the middle, the outer edges of his plastoid chest plate melted and burnt against his bare skin. The stormtrooper whimpered as the flat sole of Kylo’s boot rammed into his back, immobilizing him, pressing his body deeper into the mud. The stormtrooper cried out in pain as his wound was crushed beneath his foot.  

“Where is Hux?” Kylo sneered between clenched teeth.

More whimpering. Kylo dug his foot harder into the stormtrooper’s back. He brought his lightsaber close to his helmet. It sparked like a live wire, glowing angry and scarlet in the reflection of the trooper’s eyes. “I won’t ask twice.”

“General Hux—he’s—the—”

The stormtrooper’s communication feed sputtered and fizzled out. With a gloved hand, Kylo reached down and ripped off the stormtrooper’s helmet, casting it across the clearing. Sandy haired and bright eyed, the trooper could not have been older than eighteen. 

“Talk,” he instructed, returning his saber to its original position. The vents nearly caressed the trooper’s sweat stained cheeks.

“My unit was instructed to sweep the area, just a regular reconnaissance mission. I had orders to return to sector 12 to assist the General before the bombing wiped out most of my unit,” the stormtrooper sputtered, his voice shaking violently. He never took his eyes off of the weapon dangerously nearing the base of his throat. 

“Where?” Kylo urged.

The stormtrooper swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. “Just northward, near the base of the Poihiri caves.”

Kylo was close. The gaping mouth of the Poihiri rose high above the treeline. Thick, black plumes of smoke followed the caves upwards, swirling in the rust dyed sky like calligraphy ink in water. He needed to act fast. He removed his comlink from the notch in his belt and raised it to his lips.

“Sector 12. Stand by,” he said.

A voice crackled through. “Copy.”

Kylo lifted his foot from the stormtrooper’s back who hissed in pain once more. It wouldn’t be long till he succumbed to his wounds. He grimaced and, in one swift motion, brought his saber down on the trooper’s neck. His body shuddered for a moment then stilled, blood flowing into the mud in viscous streams. Kylo wiped away the stray droplets that stuck to his tunic and continued forward.

Past the clearing, the terrain became harder to navigate. He cut his way through the dense brush with his saber, narrowly avoiding one of the many deep springs that lined the forest’s edge. The water was tinged orange from the iron deposits hidden beneath the planet’s swampy shell.

Half a century ago, Uebos was a prosperous mining colony, an important asset to the Galactic Empire. The remnants of giant drills and mining rigs lay rusting in the swamps, overtaken by flora and fauna. Kylo hid in the safety of their towering shadows, listening for any sign of stormtroopers as small, neon birds chirped away overhead. They resembled budding flowers as they rested on the abandoned machinery, grooming their bright green feathers. The New Republic passed legislation to end all excavation operations in an attempt to protect the ecosystem disintegrating from deforestation and resource depletion. Much to his chagrin, nature had won. He singed another thick strand of vines and waded through a stretch of ankle deep water. 

As he neared the Poihiri caves, the sound of ships became louder and louder, and explosions along with it. His eyes shot upwards as rogue aerial artillery blew a TIE fighter out of the sky. Flaming debris hurtled towards the trees, bombers circling overhead like vultures. He extinguished his lightsaber and ducked behind a patch of tall grass as heavy footfall approached. A giant lizard-like creature zigzagged across the ground, its crest of muted feathers sticky with mud. It gripped the armored limb of a stormtrooper in its jagged, yellow teeth as it slinked into a murky hot spring and disappeared.

Through the trees, just adjacent to where he hid, he spotted the source of the billowing cloud of smoke. A troop transport had been shelled. Its engine was ablaze, its cargo spilled about. Nearby, a group of stormtroopers scrambled to fix it, passing tools amongst themselves while another two stood guard, blasters at the ready. With the bombers up ahead, the troopers were landlocked. Any sign of takeoff and Kylo would order another wave of bombings.

Kylo activated his comlink. “On my signal,” he said.

Burrowed into the cliffside was a string of cave systems left over from the mining colony. Many were flooded with swamp water, others tunneled so deep into the earth that no one had dared explore them in fifty years. Kylo spotted one such cave near the tree line, and with it Hux’s personal command shuttle. Partially hidden by massive, charcoal rocks, the ship nearly disappeared into the shadow of the cave’s open mouth. Stormtroopers encircled the area, no less than fifteen. The white of their uniforms was stark against the sinking blackness. And then there was Hux, barking orders. Even from a distance, he saw the way his face creased with anger, the flame of his hair not unlike the fiery wash of Uebos’ sky. 

Rage stirred in Kylo’s belly. He ignited his saber and emerged from the shelter of the forest. The evening sun glared down on him, highlighting the electric flecks in his weapon as it hissed and spit beside him, immediately drawing the attention of every stormtrooper within an earshot. Like clockwork, they raised their weapons towards him, waiting for orders. Hux turned. Soot stained his typically tidy and stiffly pressed uniform, tendrils of hair falling slick against his forehead. His face softened into something resembling amusement as he spotted Kylo from across the field.

“Supreme Leader Ren,” Hux said, then chuckled as if sharing a joke with himself. He raised a finger, his face sobering, and motioned towards his stormtroopers. “Execute him.”

A barrage of blaster bolts whizzed through the air. Kylo’s lightsaber sung as he deflected the attack, the bolts ricocheting in every direction. A stormtrooper fell to the ground as one sliced through his armour. Another glanced off the cliffside. It rumbled as if maimed.

Kylo surged forward and thrust his weapon through the nearest stormtrooper’s chest. The stormtrooper shouted. Kylo pivoted, his foot connecting with the stormtrooper’s stomach and propelling him backward. His lightsaber released from the pocket of flesh with a wet squelch. Blood oozed down the hilt. He tightened his grip.

The stormtroopers closed in, continuously firing. Kylo dove, maneuvering his saber to deflect the bolts that chased him. The ground sizzled as one flew past his ear. He slashed another stormtrooper, then another, and another, but they kept coming. He was vastly outnumbered.

Kylo reached for the comlink on his belt when suddenly, a fire ripped through his spine. A blaster bolt pierced his back. He cried out, swinging his saber wildly to finish off one last stormtrooper, but he couldn’t stop himself from crumpling to the ground. His flesh burned, his robes smoking where the bolt tore through his flesh. The wound was shallow enough not to paralyze him, but deep nonetheless.

A stormtrooper kicked his lightsaber out of his grasp and it rolled into the dense thicket of the forest. Another stormtrooper seized him by the arm and forced him onto his knees, tugging his hands behind his back. Kylo hissed in pain as his weight shifted and more pressure was placed on his wound. Warm blood trickled down his back. Hux approached, a smug grin painting the tight line of his mouth.

“Enough of these games, Ren,” Hux said, stooping in front of him, his arms tucked squarely behind his back. “Call off this silly bombing and I’ll make your death easy.”

Kylo struggled against the stormtrooper’s grasp. “No.” 

Hux’s knee connected with his stomach. He gasped as all the air rushed from his lungs. His wound screamed.

“Look at yourself now, Supreme Leader,” Hux spat, as if the words were poison. He tugged on the hair at the nape of Kylo’s neck, jerking his head upwards, his beady pupils boring into Kylo’s eyes. “You are weak.”

Kylo gritted his teeth. “You’re the one who’s weak.”

Hux laughed, his grip on him tightening. “Any support you once had is crumbling underneath your feet. Snoke is _dead_. Your knights are _dead_. Soon enough you will join them.”

Kylo’s eyes darted towards the sky above Hux’s head. The bombers had them surrounded. A group of TIE fighters engaged them in aerial combat, but the bombers stayed low, always threatening to drop their cargo on the troops stranded beneath them. It was a dangerous dance.

“Your loyal army has failed you, General.”

Hux faltered. “And if left to your leadership any longer,” he jeered, “the First Order would collapse in a matter of months. One year past and still no closer to finding the whereabouts of the Resistance. I assumed that the prospect of finding the scavenger girl would convince you to work swiftly. I was wrong.”

Hux forcefully released Kylo from his hold, but the trooper’s ironclad grip on his arm remained. With his saber tangled somewhere in the brush, he turned his attention to the comlink in his belt, hidden by the billowing fabric of his robes.

Hux adjusted his gloves and removed his blaster from the holster high on his hip. His fingers lightly brushed the barrel before raising it to Kylo’s temple. Kylo swallowed. 

“Supreme Leader Snoke was right,” Hux said. “You always were too preoccupied with your own demons.”

The Force flowed through Kylo with ease. With a twitch of his fingers, the comlink activated.

“ _Now!_ ”

The bombers shrieked as their hulls unlatched and their cargo plummeted to the ground. Hux’s finger stilled on the trigger as shells exploded all around them. In an instant, a festering cloud of fire and ash consumed the battlefield. The blast hurled stormtroopers in every direction. Trees went up in flame. Rocks dislodged from the cliffside and were subsequently blown to pieces. Somewhere deep in the cave systems, the heart of the planet crumbled and cracked.

Amidst the panic, the trooper’s grip on Kylo loosened. He shot out an open hand, blindly calling for his lightsaber through the opaque smoke. The trees rustled and twitched until finally his saber shot across the battlefield to its rightful place in his palm. He ignited it and rose to his feet, swinging backwards to slice the stormtrooper through the chest. Hux roared in anger. He raised his weapon towards him again when another blast shocked the earth mere meters away, propelling Hux backwards.

Kylo’s ears rang from the force of the explosion. Sweat drenched his face. Blood soaked his back. The pain was palpable like a hot, white poker prodding slowly into his flesh. He fought to steady his breathing. To center himself. To remember his forms. The Force electrified every nerve in his body. The smell of blood and smoke consumed him. The sweltering heat of the planet. The rusty taste of the air. Every colour—the orange dirt, the looming black of Hux’s figure, the red of his saber—was blinding. It was as if an airlock inside his mind had been opened.

A group of stormtroopers barricaded him from Hux. Without hesitation, he charged forward. He revelled as he opened the throat of a stormtrooper approaching his rear, blood spraying into the mud. With a wave of his hand, the Force hurled a trooper against the cliffside, snapping his spine in two. He crouched behind a boulder to avoid another shower of open fire, then emerged again, slashing through bodies like a butter knife through jam.

Another bomb detonated on the battlefield, then another, and another. When the dirt finally settled, he was surrounded by the unmoving bodies of stormtroopers. Hux lay at the lip of the cave entrance, crawling towards his command shuttle. Its left wing had been damaged, sparks shooting forth from a mess of severed wires. Hux scrambled for his blaster, but Kylo jerked his fingers and his weapon slid away from his grasp, sinking into a puddle of muck.

“You dare to usurp me?” he screamed. “You pathetic, snivelling little weasel.”

Kylo called upon the Force, lifting Hux into the air and launching him against the cave wall. The structure shook at the impact, dust showering down from the ceiling. Pain blossomed up and down his spine every time he exerted his power. His wound festered and ached, but his anger bested all logic. It drove him mad with impulsivity.

He loomed over Hux’s contorted body, his lightsaber crackling furiously. In his blind rage, he failed to notice the monomolecular dagger emerge from the inside of Hux’s sleeve. It glinted in the last stretch of daylight that poured through the open mouth of the cave.

“It was my destiny to rule,” Hux shouted, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes were wild, his face smeared with mud. “Not yours!”

And with a swift flick of his wrist, Hux seized the dagger in his hand and swung. Kylo sidestepped just quickly enough that it missed his chest by a breadth of an inch and, instead, plunged deep into the meat of his inner thigh. At first the pain resembled a bruising punch, but then he saw the dagger buried up to the hilt and a more intense pain flared through the disconnected muscle tissue of his leg.

Hux opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced when Kylo raised an open hand toward him.

“Your destiny ends here,” he said simply.

Hux coughed and sputtered. He clawed at his own throat with the blunt of his nails, drawing raw marks across his skin. Kylo shut his eyes and allowed his rage to guide him through the Force. The power surged through him like wild fire, setting his veins alight. His muscles seized. His jaw clenched. He curled his hand into a fist, his knuckles locked so tightly he thought his bones might snap.

Then somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard the gentle rolling of the sea. The guffaw of a bird. He tasted the salty brine of seawater at the back of his throat. He faltered, nearly losing focus on the power tearing through him. He channeled his anger and pain into the Force tenfold, grasping at any semblance of strength it granted him in return as Hux choked at his feet.

Then the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and a vision washed over him like the roaring crash of a rip tide. 

 _“Join me.”_ Kylo heard his own voice ring through his ears, just as deafening as the bombs that befell Uebos moments ago. _“I could show you the ways of the Force.”_

He seethed. They could have ruled together. They would have been stronger than anything that dared stand between them. Instead, he had lost everything.

_“Please.”_

Everything.

He cried out, raw and animalistic. Hux’s face had begun to purple, the unseen fingers around his neck pressing bruises into the pale stretch of his throat. Kylo reached once more for all the strength he could muster, and the visions swallowed him again. He saw a cabin buried by undergrowth, smelled the earthy scent of wet firewood. The mist of seawater, the warmth of an evening sun, a balmy breeze tussling water droplets from the ends of his hair.  

A shiver ran through him. The visions were fainter now, the edges vignetted in shadow, as distant and as blurry as memories of picture books he once read as a child. Curtains swaying back in forth in an empty bedroom. Frost on the racks of a barren cell. A seat left empty in a council chamber.

Like sand settling in the mucky waters of a pond, the visions suddenly cleared again, even brighter and more lucid. He felt the cold tip of a blaster gun graze the nape of his neck. The hot sear as his flesh bubbled beneath his clothes. His skin itched. A fire ripped through him, so vivid and tangible that vomit swelled in his throat. He fell to his knees.

The images shifted. 

He saw light. 

He saw mousy brown hair.

The smell of sand. A caress of skin.

“Rey.”

_“Ben!”_

Kylo’s eyes shot open when a deafening crack echoed throughout the cave. Hux’s body slumped like a cloth doll onto the floor in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging out of his skull, a sickly foam dripping from the corner of his mouth. Bone, as white as ash, pierced through the flesh of his throat.

Shaking, Kylo rose to his feet. His knees nearly crumpled underneath him. Another wave of nausea rolled his stomach as he gripped the cave wall for support. His leg burned, pain spreading through the entire left side of his body. His fingers grazed the area unobstructed by the dagger. The wound was moist with blood. It soaked the length of his trousers, a sticky pool collecting inside the heel of his boot. Kylo’s heart pounded against his ribcage as he watched the red glisten against the black leather of his gloves.

Outside the cave, the trees were ablaze.

He needed to get off this planet. And fast.

Kylo limped his way back to the clearing, wincing with every step across the uneven terrain and clutching desperately at the flesh of his thigh. He dared not remove the dagger and risk more blood loss. As Kylo reached the site of the bomb destroyed transport, his sight began to blur. White phosphenes swam behind his eyelids. He wavered on his feet like the flickering of a dying flame, fighting to regain his balance, begging not to go out.

He was losing blood. Too much blood. If he didn’t make it back to his ship—or any ship for that matter—he was going to die.

Smoke coated the lining of his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, sleep called to him, enticing him like a seductress. He submitted, his saber extinguishing and clattering to his feet, the ground rising up to meet him. Above, the sky was violet and freckled with stars. Uebos’ three suns hung low as the planet prepared for night. 

His eyes fluttered closed. 

And for the first time in months, the bond sputtered to life. Her presence was like a rush of warm water against cold skin.

“Ben?” Her voice was faint, nothing more than an echo of an echo.

“I’m dying,” Kylo said. His voice was steady, but the fear was thick on his tongue. “I need help, Rey.”

He almost laughed, hearing those words fall from his lips, but instead he coughed and shuddered. The metallic taste of blood coated his mouth.

“Come find me. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to [Lissa](https://forceghostlissa.tumblr.com) for being my Beta reader! You're the best.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ [chandrilans](https://chandrilans.tumblr.com) if you so wish! Let's be friends.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Boz Pity

The ancient skeletons marbled in the glow of Boz Pity’s moon. Rey sat cross-legged beneath the giant ribcage of an extinct Gargantelle, its bones poking through the grassy knolls like spikes. Vines tangled amongst the remains like strands of sinew. She was alone.

When sleep evaded Rey, she visited the graveyard. It reminded her of her home on Jakku, quiet, cold, deserted. But instead of rusted junk piles and broken down ships, the land was blanketed with the remains of creatures long passed and hidden within the mountains.

Leia had told Rey on the day they arrived that the Gargantelle were wiped out by battle droids ten thousand years ago, under the orders of the Hutt race. After a brief stint as the base of the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars, the planet returned to the territory of Hutt Space when the Galactic Republic fell. It lay abandoned until Grakkus the Hutt gifted the base to the Resistance in exchange for the promised destruction of the First Order who, he claimed, was ruining his business.

Being amongst the lost and abandoned granted Rey a kind of solace from her usual routine. She spent her mornings on Boz Pity meditating and training, her afternoons repairing beat-up speeders and old fighter ships in the engineering bay, and her evenings with Finn eating portions in the makeshift mess hall and rereading the Jedi texts with C-3PO.

Every few months, Poe—acting General Dameron she should say—allowed her to lead supplies runs or host negotiations with Grakkus the Hutt, but often times it was too risky. She was the last remaining Jedi, thus a familiar face to the First Order spies who tailed their missions. And so, she was usually relegated to odd jobs around the base.

The Resistance was rebuilding, gradually gaining allies in the backwater planets of the Mid and Outer Rims, but the power of the First Order strengthened just the same, their galactic territory growing with each passing day. Rey was not unfamiliar with waiting, but she itched for something more. There was only so much she could do while tied to the base on Boz Pity.

Rey huffed and opened her eyes, her focus broken. The moon was only a pinprick in the sky, but a soft, blue light engulfed the meadow.

“Master Skywalker,” Rey said, unable to mask her surprise. “You startled me.”

“My apologies, Rey,” Luke chuckled.

He leaned against the skull of a fallen Gargantelle. Long hair, seawater stained robes, unkempt beard peppered with white and grey and now blue. He looked the same as the first and last time Rey saw him. Luke examined the monuments erected in honour of the dead. They stood tall in the dirt, stone giants engraved with ornate carvings, only dwarfed by the mountain range looming in the distance.

“This is a good place for ghosts,” Luke said and Rey smiled, but it was a smile laced with melancholy. He turned to her, his expression soft. “I sensed your restlessness.”

Rey fiddled with the broken lightsaber in her lap. Her finger traced the sharp edge of the upper hilt, the piece that had split off and flung towards Kylo Ren. It pulsed with energy. No matter how many times Rey studied the Jedi texts, she couldn’t devise a way to fix the shattered Kyber crystal within. The resources of Boz Pity were limited and Poe continued to veto any unnecessary missions—along with space flight for those without clearance—until the Resistance stabilized.

“We can’t risk losing any more people,” he would say each time she asked. His guilt shaped every word he spoke. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

Rey gathered up the broken pieces of the lightsaber and shoved them into her pack.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said to Luke. Her mind was cloudy with the urge to rest, but every time her head hit the pillow her thoughts only grew louder and louder.

“It’s difficult to rest easy in times like these,” Luke said.

There wasn’t much peace to be had on Boz Pity with the constant fear of discovery looming above everyone’s head. One wrong move and all they had regrown in the past year could be uprooted in an instant.

“How is Leia?” Luke asked.

Rey recalled the last time she saw her, two weeks ago in the medical bay, hooked up to some elaborate machine with a hundred switches. “The Resistance fears the General’s condition is worsening,” she said. “There isn’t much we can do, but she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

Luke offered Rey a sad smile. “She always was the tougher twin.”

Rey returned his smile, but her head throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine. The air shifted, a cool breeze rustling her woollen cape around her. Her ears popped from the sudden change in pressure. The sound of the meadow faded and was muffled for a moment, almost as if water had clogged her ears. It was odd. Normally this meant an appearance from Kylo Ren was imminent, a sign that the Force was magnetizing the connection between them. Rey scanned the length of the meadow in confusion. The only faces that met hers were the skulls of the Gargantelles and, of course, Luke’s.

“Master Skywalker.” Rey’s breath hitched in her throat. “I sense something.”

Luke cocked his head in curiosity. Maybe he felt it too. “What do you sense, Rey?”

“Something is happening,” she said. Rey shut her eyes and pinpointed the feeling. A premonition blossomed inside her, spreading through her temples and the base of her skull. It ached of dread, sorrow, destruction. “It’s too far away. I can’t make out the shape of it.”

Concern lined Luke’s face. He crossed the meadow to sit beside her. “But you’ve shut yourself off from my nephew.”

Rey nodded, recalling one of the last times the bond had opened.

It had been months ago. Kylo appeared to her one restless night, sitting in silence on her bedroom floor as they waited for the bond to close like they had so many times since Crait. Rey had been working at her desk under the faint light of a lamp, stumbling her way through a passage scrawled in one of the Jedi texts.

“Where are you?” Kylo had said eventually, his voice strangely soft and so, so deep.

He was barefoot. A loose, cotton shirt draped over the harsh planes of his chest. His face was sullen, the skin underneath his eyes bruised with purple sleeplessness.

Rey had said nothing. She called to the Force to shut the bond. It didn’t answer her.

“Tell me where you are,” Kylo ordered.

Rey’s eyes traced the muted red of the scar she gave him. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t know why you keep asking.”

Silence again.

Kylo glanced over at the broken pieces of Luke’s lightsaber lying on Rey’s bed. “You still haven’t fixed it,” he said, something in his tone was taunting.

The bond had closed at once.

The light in the meadow shifted as the moon sunk behind the clouds.

“The bond was growing too strong,” Rey said, dropping her gaze as Luke studied her carefully. “I couldn’t risk revealing the location of the Resistance.”

“Is that the only reason why?” Luke asked.

Keeping secrets from him was a difficult task.

Another memory. Another restless night. Rey had tossed and turned in her bed, consumed by nightmares. Desert sand crusted her skin in her dreams. Her lungs ached in the cold. Like so many nightmares before, she watched as her parents left her on Jakku, their ship stark grey against the cloudless sky. She never knew if her dreams were just that, dreams or reality.

And then the nightmare shifted. A boy with moppy black hair and prominent ears sobbed at the foot of a stone temple. A voice like wet, black ink oozed into his ears.

“Abandoned at the temple steps. Such a pity,” it said, tutting. “Your parents underestimate your potential, young Solo. Come to me, child, and I will teach you the ways of the Dark Side.”

Rey had awoken with a start, the bond screaming, fiery hot, and suffocating. Ben thrashed beside her, her bedsheets somehow tangled in his legs. Rey reached for him. Her fingers brushed his cheek, calming him through the bond if only to allow herself some peace. His eyes opened to meet hers. Tears ran down his face.

There was a moment of calm and Rey realized what she saw were his nightmares not hers. Ben lifted a shaking hand to his cheek. He curled their fingers together, and then her bed was empty once more.

Guilt immediately weighed on her.

Rey, the last remaining Jedi, the face of the Resistance, enemy of the First Order.

And Rey, the frightened scavenger girl who found comfort in her bond with Kylo Ren.

She couldn’t consolidate the two realities, so she decided to shut one out.

“His nightmares were keeping me awake,” Rey told Luke, shifting the truth just enough. “The same conflict is waging a war inside him. Master Skywalker, I don’t know what to do.”

“Ben has to decide,” Luke said. “You cannot decide for him.”

Rey thought back to Snoke’s throne room aboard the Supremacy and how, when the battle had concluded and sparks poured from the ceiling like snow, Kylo had turned away from her to face Snoke’s unclaimed throne. Somehow, after all this time, it stung the same.

Tears pricked her eyes, venom spilling into her voice. “He made his choice.”

Luke frowned, hugging his robes tighter around him. “Rey, are you sure?”

He was pleading with her. As long as there was uncertainty about where Kylo stood, there was hope. She sobered.

“I’ve peaked through the bond every now and then,” she said, “but he’s closed himself off from me just the same. I can’t give you an answer.”

Luke stood. Rey watched as he circled the bones of the Gargantelle, his hand reaching out to ghost an oversized forelimb, just one of the giant’s six gargantuan arms. Rey rose to her feet and let her fingers trace the same pattern. The bones were as cold and as hard to the touch as the stone monuments towering above them.

“What draws you to this graveyard?” Luke asked her, the look in his eyes wistful.

“The Force calls me here,” Rey said. Its energy fizzled like static electricity beneath her fingertips. “There’s so much sorrow in this place, yet something about it is peaceful.”

“The Force pulls us in unexplainable ways. I myself don’t always understand it.”

Rey’s eyebrows furrowed. “But how can a place with such a brutal history ever find peace?”

Luke looked at her, his wise, old face softened with understanding. For a moment, Rey caught a glimpse of the master he could have been.

“We can’t live with anger in our hearts forever, Rey,” he said. “Sometimes forgiveness is our only option.”

And then Luke disappeared.

Rey was alone once more.

* * *

By the time Rey left the graveyard and headed towards the Resistance base, the sky was lightening with the sunrise. Starfighters whistled above her as Black Squadron returned from yet another mission in the Outer Rim. Poe’s refurbished starfighter took first position ahead of the crew. He landed in the clearing just adjacent to the main blast door. Rey watched as Poe hopped out of his cockpit and BB-8 rolled after him, beeping happily.

She circled around towards the back entrance, thankfully concealed by the thick trunks of the native Banope trees. No one was supposed to leave the base past curfew. In all likelihood, Poe knew Rey broke the rules and broke them often, but more important issues required his attention. Rey maintained appearances for his sake. Upper leadership, however ragged it may be, would reprimand him for the lack of enforcement.

Rey hoisted herself onto the nearest tree branch, carefully balancing her weight as she slipped her pack through the window she had left open. It fell to the floor with a muffled thud. She climbed in after it. Finn’s quarters were no larger than a prison cell, barely big enough for his bunk and the narrow desk that housed his blaster and a datapad. Finn was asleep, curled up in a mess of bedsheets and snoring. Rey bit back a giggle. She crossed the room, her footfall quiet as not to wake him, and snuck into the hallway.

She returned to her equally small but windowless room at the end of the hall, tossing her pack onto her bed. She began to undress, removing her cloak and stretching out her limbs. She left the lights off. Sometimes she preferred the comforting arms of darkness, like she was holed up in her abandoned AT-AT again. The only light poured into her room through the crack beneath her door, casting a bright slit against the wall.

Her skin shuddered beneath the cool sheets as she slipped into her bunk. Minutes passed. Insomnia clawed at her. Rey stared at the strip of light on her wall. It flickered any time someone passed her door. She closed her eyes and evened her breath, allowing the Force to ground her in her bed. Her daily meditations were not unlike the process of falling asleep.

Then something else pulled her. Something sickly and dark. Pain flared in her middle and shot down her legs. Her lungs seized in her chest, constricted and burning as if filled with smoke. Her eyes shot open. The slit of light against her bedroom wall disappeared. Rey jumped out of bed and clambered for the lights. Her hand hit the switch. The room flooded. She squinted in the sudden brightness. As her eyes began to adjust, she saw him.

Kylo Ren lay on the cement floor of her quarters, slumped against the door, blood pooling around his motionless body. A dagger stood tall in the flesh of his thigh. His skin was deathly pale, sweat glistening hot on his brow, his clothes wet and muddied.

Rey stood frozen in place. Panic churned her stomach. She blinked, foolishly hoping he would disappear and reveal himself as just another nightmare. It was a futile gesture.

“Ben?” Rey called out. Her voice shook.

Kylo coughed. Blood spotted his colourless his lips.

“I’m dying,” he said weakly. “I need help, Rey.”

Rey fell to her knees beside him. Her fingers dampened with blood as she desperately cupped his face. It was the first time she had touched him since the night she witnessed his nightmares. Her palms tingled at the contact. The Force hummed between them. Faint, but still there. Kylo’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Come find me,” he said before coughing again, gasping and gagging on his own blood. His body shivered. “Please.”

“Ben?” Rey said. “Where? Where can I find you?”

She scanned his body for any indication. Orange mud caked his boots and leaves tangled in his knotted hair, but it was the dagger that caught her eye. Engraved on the hilt was the emblem of the First Order.

“Ben!”

Then she was grabbing at air. He was gone.  
  
Rey burst out into the hallway and ran towards mission control, too shaken to be embarrassed by her bare feet and loose nightshirt. The last legs of Black Squadron lounged against the oversized conference table, cheerfully drinking and discussing their successful mission. BB-8 whirred, joining in on the festivities, a glass of something amber balanced precariously on his head. Poe was the first to notice as Rey strode through the open blast doors, undoubtedly looking wild and dishevelled in her unkempt buns and undress.

“Rey?” he said in confusion, holding up a finger to Jessika who was dramatically describing the destruction of the First Order fighter she downed earlier. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Rey swallowed the lump in her throat. “Poe, I need to speak to you. Now.”

BB-8 looked up at her and responded with a concerned beep. Poe dismissed himself. He gently took Rey’s elbow, and led her into the hall.

“What’s going on?”

Under the fluorescent light of the hallway, Rey saw pinkness blossoming in the apples of his cheeks. The bitter pungency of alcohol was thick on his clothes.

“I need you to remove the no-fly mandate.”

“And why would I do that?” Poe glanced down and some of the red rushed from his face. He reached for her hand. “Rey, you’re bleeding—”

“It’s nothing,” she said, tucking her palms beneath folded arms, blood staining the sides of her shirt. Poe didn’t know about the Force bond between her and Kylo. Nor did he need to know. Nor would he understand. “I need to leave the base immediately.”

Poe’s eyebrows knitted together, his lips pressing into a thin line. “What you need to do, Rey, is tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I have reasons to believe that the First Order has executed a coup against Kylo Ren,” she said, recalling the dagger. Her stomach rolled at the memory of the mess of Kylo’s leg and the deep scarlet blood all around him.

“And where did you get this intel?” His tone was firm, if not tainted with suspicion.

Rey ignored his question. There was no time. “Kylo Ren is in danger,” she urged, losing her patience. Her voice grew louder, more frantic. “He needs my help.”

The anger on Poe’s face was immediate. “Kylo Ren? Do you really think I’m going to lay the Resistance on the line for Kylo Ren?” he said, huffing in exasperation. “No, absolutely not.”

“Not the Resistance,” Rey argued. “Just me.”

BB-8 tumbled into the hallway, excitedly beeping away in binary at the mention of a mission. Poe straightened, just barely dodging BB-8 as the droid circled around his legs.

“No, BB-8, you can’t go,” he said.

The droid’s bleeping dropped an octave. He hung his head and rolled a little slower.

Poe turned back to Rey. “Look, this whole ‘General Dameron’ thing is just a title until General Organa recovers. I’ve still got the other commanders on my ass every hour of the day.” His eyes saddened. “If we lose any more people, that’s on me.” A pause. “Again.”

“Then, let me speak to her.”

“No,” Poe said. “The General isn’t in good health. You know this.”

Rey gritted her teeth. “But he’s her _son_.”

“It’s against protocol. I’m sorry,” Poe said, but Rey wasn’t listening.

She spotted the doorway to Leia’s quarters from where she stood, partially concealed by shadow. Without a second thought, Rey took off down the hallway, her bare feet smacking unceremoniously against the cold tiled floors.

Poe called after her, but made no move to stop her. “Hey, Rey! Rey, wait a second—”

She pounded on the General’s door, its hinges creaking beneath the weight of her fist. A moment later, Leia’s medical attendant Ellona emerged, her white uniform bland against her bright blue hair.

“The General is resting,” she hushed, scrunching her pointed and generously freckled nose.

“I need to speak to her right now,” Rey urged. “It’s concerning her son.”

“Ellona, let me talk to Rey.”

Leia stood in the foyer, leaning most of her weight on her silver plated cane. The General’s condition appeared unchanged. Her complexion was pallid, her body thin, and her bones jutting out from beneath her papery skin, but she stood tall. Her face conveyed a fervent strength and regality that could not be replicated.

“Of course.” Ellona stepped away and let Rey inside.

The General’s quarters were simply furnished with a table and chairs, a small bed, and a mismatched chest of drawers. The medical equipment took up most of the space in the room, towering machines with red and blue lights. Ellona helped Leia back into bed and then dismissed herself, leaving the two alone to talk.

“How are you feeling, General?” Rey asked, sitting on the edge of Leia’s bed.

“Old,” Leia said with a half-smile. She reached out and patted Rey’s cheek. “Tell me what’s going on with my son.”

Leia, like her brother, had sensed the connection between Rey and Kylo long before she told them. Leia confronted her with more ease and understanding than Luke had, but it was not something they openly discussed. Every time intelligence floated in about the First Order’s whereabouts or the status of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Leia looked knowingly at Rey from across the control room.

“Ben is injured,” Rey said. “He spoke to me through the Force. He said he needed my help, that I had to come find him.”

Disbelief flashed across Leia’s face. “He asked for your help?”

Rey nodded, hardly believing it herself. “I don’t think he has anyone else to turn to. I’m afraid he waited until he had no other option. His situation is dire.”

Leia quieted. The roguish glint in her eyes turned glassy, and for the first time she seemed so small. Rey reached out and held her hand. Thankfully, the General ignored the rusty blood drying inside the cracks of Rey’s palms.

Leia sighed. “I suppose he inherited his stubbornness from Han and I.” Rey nearly flinched at the mention of Han’s name. A deep hurt blossomed in her chest. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t,” Rey said and squeezed her hand again, “but if you let me go, I’ll be able to find him.”

She knew the Force would lead her there.

“And you’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Your son is out there somewhere, General. I will return him to you.”

Leia straightened. “Then you must go to him,” she said firmly. “Don’t worry about Poe. I’ll deal with him and the council.”

Rey’s heart raced with anticipation. “Thank you, General. I’ll leave at once.”

She rose to her feet. Leia looked up at her. The hope in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Find my son, Rey,” she said. “And bring him home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thanks to [Lissa](https://forceghostlissa.tumblr.com) for being my Beta reader!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ [chandrilans](https://chandrilans.tumblr.com).


	3. Saviour

The _Millennium Falcon_ whirred as Rey switched on the engine. It clanked and sputtered at first, then evened out into a steady hum. It sounded like the voice of an old friend, familiar and warm in Rey’s ears. The control panel vibrated as the _Falcon_ lifted off the ground, trees bending beneath it with the force of its takeoff. Boz Pity shrunk below, a mess of green hills and snow dusted mountains. It shrunk and shrunk until it was no larger than a pea.

The star speckled sky stretched out in front of Rey and relief washed over her. Day-to-day life on Boz Pity had grown suffocating and all too familiar. If she wanted familiar, she would have returned to Jakku.

Rey checked the navigator to input the coordinates of her destination, but paused as she stared at the long line of zeros. The location of Kylo Ren remained unknown. The relief that electrified her moments before faltered. Nervousness, solid and sickly, stirred her insides. 

_Come find me. Please._

As the adrenaline from the initial contact dissipated, anger and uncertainty laid roots in its place. Rey scolded herself for responding with such optimism at first. Four words couldn’t prove Kylo had changed since Crait. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Maybe Poe was right to be cautious. Maybe this was a trap.

Rey fiddled with a stray thread dangling from her arm wrap, weighing her options as if there was more than one. Leia asked her to bring back her son. The General had endured so much, losing her son to the Dark Side, the death of Han Solo, the near destruction of the Resistance. Rey could not muster the cruelty to deny her request. 

With that, Rey closed her eyes and solemnly opened up the bond. She called out to him.

At first, there was nothing. Rey steadied her breathing, concentrating on the feel of Kylo, however faint and far away. She recalled the times the bond had roared to life as strong as ever. How every detail lining Kylo’s face had become clear to her in those moments, every mole, every scar, every freckle. She recalled the steam of his skin and the sore of his muscles after a long bout of training, messy hair—which touched his shoulders now—beaded with sweat. Sometimes the Force bonded them so strongly it was as if they were the same person, two halves of one whole. The thought normally frightened her, but as she reached through the blackness begging Kylo to answer, it was almost a comfort.     

With that, the Force bended and the bond creaked open like a rusted hatch. Rey saw mud, treetops aflame, and the yawning mouth of a cave through the dark thicket of smoke. Pain pulsed through her spine. Her left thigh ached where the knife pierced Kylo’s flesh. She winced, but retained her focus. Suddenly she was in the cockpit of a command shuttle. Coordinates flashed on the main screen of the navigator. 

Rey returned to herself and inputted the string of numbers into the _Falcon_ ’s system before she had time to second guess herself.

“Outer Rim territory,” she remarked as the information loaded on screen.

Rey activated the hyperdrive and the _Falcon_ sped off into the galaxy at light speed, the stars warping all around her. She settled into the pilots seat when something behind her beeped. Was the flight computer malfunctioning? Rey glanced over her shoulder and nearly jumped in her seat.

“BB-8?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

The droid beeped timidly, emerging from his hiding spot in the hallway. As soon as he saw Rey, his beeping grew more excited. He spun around the cockpit, clinking and clanking, accidentally knocking into the _Falcon_ ’s Dejarik board. The droid must have snuck in when Rey was loading the _Falcon_ with as many bacta patches she could carry.

Rey sighed. “Poe will be worried sick,” she said. “Vying for adventure are you?” 

The droid whirred happily. She laughed. It felt good to laugh amongst all the chaos. Some of the stress held tight in her shoulders melted away, but the weight of her mission did not escape her.

“Well, I’m not sure Kylo will be happy to see you.”

Rey could picture it so easily. The droid that started it all, reduced to just a few stray parts in a matter of seconds. But she wouldn’t let that happen, of course.

“Come here then,” she said. BB-8 rolled to sit at her feet. “The least you could do is be my co-pilot.”

The _Falcon_ emerged from hyperspace. Uebos was a tiny planet, much smaller than Boz Pity. Half of the surface was covered in ocean, the other half in swamps and mudflats, blue and orange twisted together like a cat’s eye marble.

Any sign of First Order ships failed to read on the _Falcon_ ’s radar. Nevertheless, Rey practiced caution. Smoke cloaked Uebos’ surface, offering some semblance of concealment. She navigated around the flank of the planet and lowered the _Falcon_ towards a pocket of caves that freckled the landscape. The Force hummed within Rey’s chest. Kylo was close.

Landing proved difficult. Rey squinted through the smoke that stained the cockpit window. The _Falcon_ creaked and groaned as they landed lopsided and Rey heard the snapping of tree trunks. They weren’t as close to the clearing as she thought.

She stood, grabbing her staff and removing the blaster from her holster. It sat heavy in her palm.

“Stay here, BB-8.”

BB-8 looked up at her, shaking his mechanical head, beeping with concern.

“No, I’ll go alone,” she said.

Droids did not always bode well on muddy and waterlogged planets, especially droids as spherical as BB-8. Rey unhooked a breath mask from the wall and shoved a second one in the pack slung over her shoulder.

“Guard the ship. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

Rey slipped the mask over her face and opened the _Falcon_ ’s hatch. She exited the ship before the smoke billowing ominously at the end of the platform flooded inwards. BB-8 closed the door behind her.

Rey took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The sound of her exhale was muffled beneath the mask. It reminded her of the first time Kylo spoke to her, his helmet distorting every word. It was an act, wasn’t it? Almost childlike and fantastical in nature. Kylo Ren was a falsified effigy born from the mind of a sad, lost boy.

Rey’s lungs filled with clean, filtered air. In and out. Out and in. The smoke was so thick anything more than an arms width in front of her was shrouded. How would anyone survive in these conditions? Her steps faltered, but she pushed onward. If Kylo was dead, she would feel it. Somehow, she would know.

Ash coated her skin like chalk dust. The smoke stung her eyes, tears falling in fat globs down her cheeks. The only indication she was making any ground was the sound of her boots sloshing in the mud. She outstretched her hand and watched as it disappeared behind the smoke, then closed her eyes, and reached out instead with her feelings.

Rey navigated her way through the forest acting merely on instinct. Eventually the smoke dissipated enough for the forest floor to become visible below. Mud, sticks, and leaves grabbed at her boots. Her arm brushed a sharp notch in the cliffside, the rock black and pearlescent like the cave from her vision. She let her fingers trail along the scar, guiding her forward until the cliffside disappeared beneath her fingers, opening up into the mouth of a cave, cheeks full with the same sweltering smoke. Rey advanced. Her foot pressed something solid deep into the dirt.

A hand. Ben?

Rey stooped down. Her eyes trailed the lapel of his black uniform up to his face. 

Hux.

Smoke and blood blotted his skin, his neck twisted like a gnarled tree branch. A scream festered in Rey’s throat. She suppressed the urge, fearful of alerting enemies nearby. Only one person could have done this. She stood and backed away, each step more frantic than the last.

A sad and lost boy? Did she truly believe that?

Kylo Ren was dangerous.

But if he was to live and face all he had done, Rey was his only hope.

Waterlogged footprints that were not her own dimpled the earth, leading away from where Hux’s body lay. She followed them to a clearing where the footprints were replaced by drag marks. The drag marks led her downhill into a marsh of steaming swamps.

Kylo’s body slumped at the water’s edge. His face was half submerged in a shallow puddle, his robes sopping wet. He was unconscious, but alive. Rey ran to him, removing the spare breath mask from her pack. As she reached to cradle his head in her hands, she hesitated.

The blood from Kylo’s torn thigh dyed the water around him an even deeper red. The light that shone against Han Solo’s face as Kylo ignited his saber had been red too, as red as the bloody lightning bolts that zigzagged in the whites of Hux’s dead eyes, bone piercing through his throat like Kylo’s saber pierced through his father’s chest.

Rey stopped just short of touching his face, stretching the band of the breath mask over his head and positioning it over his mouth and nose. His shallow breath fogged the mask. She was there for the sake of the Resistance. For Leia. Nothing more.

Kylo’s lightsaber lay beside him, just out of reach of his limp and open hand. Rey tucked it away in her pack and rolled Kylo over, careful not to agitate the dagger in his thigh. She hooked her arms underneath his armpits and tugged backwards. He slid through the mud ever so slightly, his shallow breath fogging his mask. Her muscles ached beneath his weight, but she continued to drag him across the marsh until her boot disappeared into a sinkhole and she lost her balance, falling forward onto her knees.

Rey grunted, an exasperated sigh passing her lips. Her foot released from the mud with a squelch. She stood, wiping the sweat from her face with the back of her hand and examining the new scrapes on her arms. Kylo’s eyes twitched beneath his eyelids, but he did not wake.

Rey was unsure if she could make it back to the ship just by dragging him. The landscape was nearly unnavigable even without the extra weight. She stood over him and toed his hip with her boot.

“Please,” she whispered.

No answer.

The hot spring to her left bubbled and sloshed, steam clouding its surface. A cacophony of wildlife screeched and squawked in the distance as the ceaseless blaze ransacked the forest. An animalistic cry rang across the mudflat, rough and low like metal scraping against concrete. It cried out again. Closer now.

Rey looked over her shoulder as a wave of dirty, red water crashed against the shoreline, and saw slitted pupils staring at her from just above the surface. There was little time to react as the lizard-like creature leapt from the water and pounced upon her, knocking her onto her back with enough force to launch the pack lazily slung on her shoulder out of arm’s reach and force the breath mask from her mouth. The smoke flooded her, the taste overwhelmingly bitter. She gasped.

The creature’s tongue unrolled from its mouth, long and pink and covered in white boils. With a forearm raised to its throat to fend off the attack, Rey reached for the blaster at her hip only to realize it had flung from its holster and landed somewhere near her discarded pack.

Rey grunted, bending her knee and kicking violently at the underbelly of the creature. The creature hissed and backed away ever so slightly. She wiggled out of its grasp and crawled through the mud, extending a hand towards her blaster, calling upon the force to send it forth. It launched into her hand. She turned to face the creature, but before she could pull the trigger, a hand encircled its throat and pulled a blade clean through its scaly skin. The creature’s translucent, green blood spilled onto the ground at her feet.

Its lifeless body fell to the dirt to reveal Kylo standing above her, wild and untamed, the dagger that was once deep in his thigh grasped firmly in his fist.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

The Force sung, heavy and bright in Rey’s chest.

Kylo let go of the dagger and it clattered to the ground. He removed his mask, his bottom lip trembling ever so slightly, his breaths ragged. His face was painted with the same intensity Rey saw on the _Supremacy_ when he refused to ignite his saber and plunge it into her chest, when he killed Snoke, when he saved her.

“Rey,” Kylo said, her name delicate on his tongue as if it were something sacred.

“Ben.” It was all she could think to say, a whisper just beneath her breath. His name, his real name, was reassurance to herself that the light inside him, although stifled and subdued, was still there. 

Kylo’s knees buckled beneath him, blood drenching the length of his leg now that his wound was unobstructed by the dagger and privy to the open air. Shivering and feverish, he fell to the ground and vomited into the mud. He coughed and an inkblot of blood ran down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of hand.

Rey knelt beside him, unravelled the material wrapped around her forearms, and offered it to him. Her teeth worried her lip as Kylo took the bundle from her hand, the leather of his gloves soft against her palm. He nodded towards her in silent thanks, fastening one arm wrap around his upper thigh in a makeshift tourniquet. He reached for the muddy dagger and cut open the frayed slit of his trousers that gave way to his leg wound. Rey grimaced at the sight, but Kylo’s face showed no emotion as he worked. Given the abundance of scars she had seen on his bare chest, she imagined he had done this many times before.

Kylo wrapped the rest of the material around the surface of his wound, grunting in discomfort as he knotted it tight. There would be time to patch him up with the bacta Rey had brought once they returned to the _Falcon_. But for now, this would have to do. 

With shaking hands, Rey slung her pack onto her shoulders and returned her blaster to its holster. She offered her hand to Kylo, who took it and hoisted himself out of the mud, balancing as much weight as he could on his good leg. Rey returned her breath mask to its proper place, as did Kylo. 

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Just then, Rey heard the sound of TIE fighters swarming above Uebos like gnats. The very outline of a Star Destroyer clouded the planet’s sky. Panic flashed across Kylo’s face. The First Order had returned and likely in search of him.

They ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> And thank you to [Lissa](https://forceghostlissa.tumblr.com) for being my beta!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ [chandrilans](https://chandrilans.tumblr.com).


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